I think what stopped me was that I thought no one would want to read about what's going on in my life, and maybe that I was afraid that potential employers would find this and use it against me; and then I realized, tonight, it doesn't matter and the right employer will see this for what it is, an outlet. What matters most is that I need to have an outlet for what's going on, and privately journalling, while great, sometimes takes more effort than I have — and I can type faster than I can write too!
Part of the human experience, in my experience, is that we all have demons that chase us. My demons seem to have been just waiting for me to exit the womb. My mother says that I was born with a smile on my face and a wrinkle in my brow, and she just knew I'd taken on the cares of the world at that moment.
I've been literally scared of everything for as long as I can remember. Startling at the smallest sound, trembling in the presence of friends, and petrified of strangers and what they'll do to me... it sounds so silly! But this has been my experience, and it has been very difficult to articulate for the past 30 years. There are days when I look out the window, and literally cannot muster up enough courage to leave the bed. My mother had to institute a rule in the house: "If you're not puking, have white stuff on your tonsils, or don't have fever, you're going to school." Well, I hate puking and will do anything to prevent it, I've been mercifully given only very rare bouts of strep throat, and my temperature has always run cool; if I have a fever, I'm probably knocking on death's door. But that doesn't mean that I had to talk while I was in the classroom.
A lot of people will tell you, when you tell them that you're scared, that it's nothing to be afraid of; alternatively, they'll tell you that everyone's afraid of that. What they don't understand, what I don't understand, is how fear affects your life. For me, it's conquering the fears everyone else seems to have, like a fear of falling, or speaking to large audiences, or holding a snake — but those little ones are what stop me in my tracks. Those little ones like learning how to ride a bike, or telling your friends that you need help, or here lately, telling your doctors that you know you need help.
I'm on two prescriptions for my anxiety now and facing an uphill battle war that's been 30 years in the making. I've had to tell my doctors, "Look, the depression is always going to be there, no matter what, because both sides of my parentage have passed that down to me. I need some help to not be scared of my own shadow. The smile on my face, and the giggles, they hide the part of me that is trembling just talking you right now. I need you to see that I'm fighting for the breath to tell you this, and it's only the things I've learned that help me cover up my fear, the giggling, the smiling, that keep me from running out that door."
I hope I can continue my drug regimen. I hope I can continue to see my doctors. I hope I'm not leaning too much on my friends and family, asking them to please be there for me. I look at those bills piling up with no way of paying for them, and I'm scared I'll lose that hope. Worse than that, I'm terrified that I won't win enough battles, and that I'll lose the war against my anxiety.
